


Steve Rogers: An Irish Activist

by KorrohShipper



Series: S. Grant Wilson [4]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Peggy, Canon Compliant, Civil Rights Movement, Day 3, F/M, Friends Bailing Out Friends, Jailbird!Steve Rogers, LGBTQ Movement, Married Steggy, Modern Era, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steggy Week 2020, Steve is Arrested Many Times, Steve is an Activist, Through the Years, Time Travel, Vietnam War Protests, Woke!Steve Rogers, steggy domesticity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25426285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorrohShipper/pseuds/KorrohShipper
Summary: “I can’t believe I had to pay bail for Captain America’s ass!”
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Rebecca Barnes Proctor & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Daniel Sousa, Steve Rogers & Howard Stark
Series: S. Grant Wilson [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867306
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	Steve Rogers: An Irish Activist

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 (Tuesday) - Modern Day

The first time it happens, it is 1957 and he is scared because he’s left his kids alone.

He has a black eye and he knows it will have already mellowed down by the time he’s home and, when the morning comes, it is gone already.

To be fair, assaulting an officer and punching the man in the stomach, despite his now newly minted criminal record that detailed and recorded the incident, was not his doing.

It was because he tried to break up the fight and when the officer asked him to put down the picket sign and disperse before the rest of the police force would be forced to gas them and arrest them, he refuses.

In turn, he was the one punch and given a violation for resisting arrest, disobeying a person in authority, and partaking in an illegal assembly.

His cellmates were very courteous, they had, after all, watched as he rallied alongside them and refused to be given an easy out because of the virtue of the color of his skin.

There was a respect cemented in his stay in that small cell.

But he was also scared. The sitter had an early morning shift the next and she lives all the way across downtown. He knew that Sally wouldn’t just leave the kids, but still. The father in him wouldn’t be appeased until he’s home with his kids.

Peggy was away in mission to Russia. There were numerous reports of Hydra heads popping up all of a sudden and they couldn’t risk him. He had been spotted in Brooklyn where a vet had seen him. He said that he’s thankful for everything he’s done for his infantry and that he’s saved his life back in Volgograd.

His face, no matter how much he’s aged, was still one of the most photographed war-time personalities and clearly, with a comic book and a set of themed trading cards, he is still far too distinct to pull off a mission.

But surprisingly, he was pulled away without much fuss. The police officers said that the matter was all cleared up and he was free to go and he wouldn’t need to worry about his record.

He was about to argue about it when there was a familiar, aluminum glint on the floor and Steve found himself smiling despite the situation.

“Forgive my friend,” said Daniel Sousa, giving a diplomatic if not disarmingly charming smile at the officers that immediately made people trust him, “he’s had a rough night.”

“Of course, Mr. Sousa, just make sure to keep your friend out of trouble,” said one of the aged cops before giving them both a curt nod and leaving them in the booking hall of the precinct.

“ _Mr. FBI-hotshot_ ,” he greeted warmly before taking the man into an embrace. “Daniel, it is good to see you.”

“I don’t think Violet has the same sentiment.” He says dryly and Steve winces. He opens his mouth to apologize and ask where his fiancé was but was cut off before he could even ask. Daniel gave that glinting smile to let him know he was messing with him. “She sent Sally home. She’s with the kids.”

Steve’s chest grows light in relief. Jamie loves Aunt Violet. After all, Jamie always found it effortless to charm a biscuit out of the cookie jar whenever she’s the appointed guardian.

“I’m sorry for intruding. I didn’t know who to call.”

Daniel gave him a dry look. “Really?” he challenged. “You, Captain America, who’s married to Peggy Carter, the director of America’s leading covert intelligence agency. You had no one to call?” he says dryly.

“Well,” Steve says sheepishly, “if you put it like that.”

“Tell me,” Daniel shook his head, “does your wife know?”

“No.”

He looked like he wanted to tell him off but decides against it. “Come on,” there was a taxi waiting for them, the engine still running. “Vi told me that Jamie’s wondering when his dad’s coming home and I don’t want to break it to him that you got thrown into the slammers.”

* * *

Peggy is in Guatemala when it happens again.

President Johnson had personally appointed Peggy to spearhead a project on rehabilitation of certain devastated areas. SHIELD had allocated resources to construct houses, schools, wells for clean drinking water, and other public facilities that will improve the standard and condition for life.

He is lucky that Rebecca Barnes knows him too well to understand that he’s be involved in something like that.

She fetches him in front of the precinct. Steve rubs his thumb over the mark of the cuffs that imprinted itself on his skin—it will disappear and soon it will be as if it was never there—but she gave him that same no-nonsense look that is no doubt inherited from Ma Winnie.

“This is the second time this month, Steve.” She says sharply before taking him into an embrace. When they broke apart, she studies his face, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his cheeks, discontent with the prickly sensation but nonetheless pleased because of it. “Good thing you didn’t shave.”

Subconsciously, he agrees. Shaving would have been disastrous, especially because of the stint he did back in ’64 with the shield that was, due to particularly nosy reporter, lead to an inopportune photograph that had made the headlines for two whole weeks.

Then, his demeanor changes. His breath fogs in the wind and his chest tightens. “Does my wife know?”

At that, Becca frowns. “No.” And she gave him that hard-pressed look that begs, asks exasperatedly, why?

“Good.” His shoulders loosened up and sags down in relief. “Thank you, Becca. I owe you one.”

She led him to the car, a metallic blue Chrysler Newport that had snow already building up on its hood.

“The kids know about this, Steve?” she asks then, concerned.

“Angie and Mikey, they think that I’m with Howard. Jamie and Ellie, however, I think they’re starting to notice.” Ellie, in particular. In the household, Steve thinks because of his stunt at the march, that he's earned an ally in his daughter, who is now brushing up on a series of sex-based discrimination. He couldn't help but think that, in a few years, he will be a witness to Ruth Bader Ginsburg and her campaign to empower women all over the country. 

His reverie is cut off when Becca starts the engine and readjusts her mirror when she breaks into a scoff.

“I can’t believe I had to pay bail for Captain America’s ass!”

* * *

It is 1969 and he is beyond thankful when the police officer unlocked his cell and let him out.

He is also thankful that Peggy is currently in Washington wrestling the big wigs for to fund a project that will define SHIELD and become its resounding identity in the future. It will become the SHIELD that he's woken up to in the future. 

“Hey, Mr. Wilson, sir,” asks the cop gruffly, though his voice held a hint of awe, a little of intimidation, but mostly of wonder, “your friend bailed you out.”

He was escorted out with a noticeable gentleness that wasn’t present when he was stuffed into the cell. An example was being called Mr. Wilson whereas, when he was put in the cell, he was referred to as a crazy, old queer.

The light from the windows filtered in and he sighed when his friend, who had bailed him out, gave him a smirk, a knowing smirk that had the tips of his mustache raised in a smug huff. He looked like he was about to say something entirely inappropriate and thoroughly distasteful. 

“Hello to you, too, Howard.”

He deposited a clear plastic bag of his stuff—he wrinkled his nose because, internally, what about those sea turtles and plastic isn’t good for the earth, we need to cut on plastics—into his hands.

Howard slung his arm over his shoulders, but barely. Howard stood on his toes until he side-stepped so he would be in front, planting his hands square on his shoulders. “I didn’t know you were queer!” he mocks cheerfully as he sighs.

“Being a supporter doesn’t mean—”

They stepped outside the precinct and he sees Jarvis, standing dutifully beside the door of the car and smiles at him warmly.

“Captain, Sir,” the English butler, with a flourish, steps aside and holds the door open. “I suppose Ms. Carter is aware of your predicament?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Jarvis.”

He pales at the prospect. “Oh, dear.” He says gravely.

“So, how about this,” butts in Howard with a conspiratorial grin on his face, “You’re no doubt already going to be in hot water with the missus when she gets home, you might as well roll in the mud.”

“What are you—”

“Jarvis!” Howard grins as he clasps the back of the leather-clad chair of his high-end Mercedes sedan. “To the future!”

* * *

As a veteran, a soldier of many wars and battles, he knew that it was time to lay down the arms and bring their brave boys home.

Unfortunately, the administration didn’t appreciate the protest and he was thrown in jail.

But he wasn’t in jail—at least, not like any of the holding cells he’s ever been in.

“My, you have quite the extensive rapport.” A familiar drawl of foreign vowels sounded over and he bowed his head down.

“When did you get back?” she had been in England, visiting family while he had school work to grade. Sarah and Mikey came along while Ellie had to go over her finals. 

Suffice to say, the kitchen table lit only by a singular cone light was as intimidating as any interrogation room. “How did you know?”

And there, in the living room, was the traitor. “Hi, Dad.” Jamie was home from college, his newly minted diploma now hanging in on the mantle, the first for their four children. “Mom made me tell her.”

Steve sighed and gave a lopsided smile, albeit tired. “Yeah, I know.” Peggy gave him a sharp look before Jamie went on upstairs to his room.

“So, would you like to tell your stint as a jailbird?”

His shoulders rose to his ears. “Not particularly so.”

Once Jamie was effectively out of earshot, Peggy took to the seat across him and echoed, in quiet disbelief, “You stole a loud speaker?”

“She’s a _Karen_ , she kept saying the war was justified, no matter the body count if it meant keeping the _commies_ at bay,” he grumbles and she waves it off as if she understood—he likes to think that she does know what a _Karen_ is, but maybe she’s just indulging him—and he winces at the slap of her hand on his cheek. “And I didn’t steal a loudspeaker, I just borrowed it before he could hear me ask for it.” As he was escorted into the back of the police cruiser, he returned the loudspeaker and apologized profusely to the man.

Peggy broke out into a laugh, that same, stomach-twisting, life-fulfilling laugh that made his insides melt into a puddle. “Well, I’ll have you know that if it was a one time thing, it could have evened out the incident. . .but four?”

Ah, the _incident_.

Peggy refers to the incident as her run-in with the law, except she was brought to trial where the judge, naturally, had seen it fit that she, despite being morally correct, serve three months of community service.

The incident starts with their friend, a neighbor who was in a dangerous position, unable to leave her abusive marriage, not to mention to keep her children safe from their stepfather.

One of the neighborhood children had a birthday party and Peggy was returning the kids, Martin and Frances, to their mother when she’s heard the fight and the cry of pain form Marlene. Telling the children to remain in the car, she had burst in and put a stop to the act.

While she did help Marlene and the children get set up far away from her now—thankfully—ex-husband, for cover’s sake, she could not use SHIELD as a means of escaping the lawsuit as Hydra and the Council of Nine were both hot on her trail. A sensationalized event that had local news coverage would raise eyebrows, especially to those who were already sniffing around in the right place, but to make it disappear and vanish, squeaky clean? That was a glaring sign. 

At the time, he had been supportive, of course. If it had been him, he probably would have done the exact same thing. _Do as Peggy says_ , as he often says. But when the issue was blown over, he could not help himself. It was a gold mine for inside jokes to come. 

He had been relentless, so to say, of his teasing.

While being an activist for social movement and change, his arrests threw a problematic wrench at his teasing. He was now a hypocrite, which is why he went to great lengths at hiding it.

And now, she knew.

“Oh, my darling, I hope you’re ready for a lifetime’s worth of retribution.”

And he laughs, despite the threat. To a lifetime more with Peggy Carter, he thinks giddily.

Then, when he scoots over to her side, he captures her lips for a soft, but lingering kiss. "What a rebel my mother thinks I am."

"How come?"

Peggy plants her palm on his chest, the tip of her fingers just barely outlining the tones of his muscles that bore through his shirt. "Well, I suppose even my mother, in her bleakest of nightmares, wouldn't have thought that I'd settle down for an Irish activist."

**Author's Note:**

> I know it says modern day and I was supposed to make something on Steve and Peggy in the future learning to sext but this idea kept popping in and I couldn't let it go. I had to. 
> 
> Woke!Steve as an activist is a headcanon now and I cannot let it slide. 
> 
> Also, Steve and Daniel friendship. Am I nuts for seeing it? I mean, surely, it's a thing, right? I mean, even if I was, I'd sink with this bromance ship. 
> 
> Also, sorry for being late.


End file.
